


Collins is a top tier mess

by ShipperTrash140109



Series: basketball au [1]
Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Basketball, Enemies to Friends, Implied Sexual Content, Lord of the Flies References, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Recreational Drug Use, alex is bastard man, george and peter love their weed lmao, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 17:22:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20549891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipperTrash140109/pseuds/ShipperTrash140109
Summary: collins had never seen himself as one of those self inserts in a wattpad fanfiction that falls in love with the bad boy from the opposing team, but then again he'd never seen a guy like that- and maybe 'that guy' was worth it.shitty summary but basically it's a modern dunkirk au





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Snowpiercer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowpiercer/gifts), [brookeluvsdogs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookeluvsdogs/gifts).

> what the fuck is up kyle- idk how long this beech is gonna last so enjoy it and leave comments because im very fragile
> 
> title is yoinked from Friction by Imagine Dragons
> 
> also many thanks to the dunkirk discord for help headcanoning the FUCK out of this (brooke u owe me a headcanon)

“You have the coordination of a baby giraffe with hamster balls for legs”

“You sure are cocky for someone who missed every single shot last game”

“That’s probably because some feral scot threw a pencil at me during math class and I had to wear an eyepatch for a week”

“Just shut up and stop bouncing the ball in the one spot”

In hindsight, Collins was asking for it, was asking Philippe to reply with a crossover dribble and a burst of speed that would make Lebron James cry, but Collins reckons the slam dunk was a bit overkill. Bit tacky. He definitely wasn’t just feeling bratty because he’d been dethroned by the new kid.

They were the only ones on the court, for shitty England it was surprisingly hot today, and with their sports hall currently in use by the volleyball team, the basketballers had been left with the blue spray-painted concrete of the outside court, the rest of their team had decided this wasn’t it chief, and had pissed off to study or be literally anywhere else. Except for Peter and George- but they didn’t play basketball and were instead laying out on their backs next to the sports shed passing a blunt between themselves and staring directly into the sky.

Collins and Philippe’s thin cotton button-ups stuck to them all over, their ties left draped over their bags as they played, they would’ve thrown their shirts off by now if the uniform policy wouldn’t rip them a new arsehole for it, the missing ties would be enough to set off most passing teachers, let alone if they had their shirts off.

“I can see your disgusting pale skin through your shirt from here, you need some sun, Scotty” Philippe called as he dribbled circles around the blond, Collins might’ve tried to take the ball back to shut his trap, but he was understandably feeling a bit defeated after Philippe had practically wiped the floors with him all break.

“You’re from fucking France, as if you’re any better- I’ll tolerate bathing in my own sweat all day if it means there are no school showers to risk seeing your pasty arse” Collins huffed, making a run at the cackling boy only to almost fall on his face when Philippe’s utilizes a _goddamn wraparound _to dodge him.

“I’m from Nice, toi idiot, one of the sunniest places in France, I would see more sun in one afternoon then you’ve seen in your whole life- I’m surprised you even know what the sun is- and that you don’t say ‘oh shit, what’s that big shiny yellow thing in the sky’ every time a cloud parts for five seconds” the dark-haired boy laughs, trotting down the court and sinking another goal, the sound of his laughter enough to rouse Peter into looking up a moment before resting back to stare at the for once clear sky again.

By the time the bell rung Collins was about ready to collapse, Philippe was having a great time though, fucking twat, and decided to look shocked when Collins rejected his handshake with a scowl, Philippe scolding him about poor sportsmanship before calling out to the two other boys still laid out on the grass. They’d get up eventually, and luckily the teachers would care more about George’s black socks than they would about the reek of weed.

“You need to smarten up before Thursday, Collins- we’re going to be versing a team that might be able to hold its own, asked the coach this morning, apparently the new captain really whipped them into shape” Collins rolled his eyes as they swung their bags over their shoulders, ties making their way back under their collars and around their necks as slowly as possible as they trekked up the hill towards the heart of the school. Their next class was in the hottest block in the whole damned school- with two fans about as small as a plug-in desk fan and as reliable as a pathological liar, the day was not about to get any better.

“I’ll be fine- was just hot today is all, I’m still the second best in the team, should be Guthrie and Vernel you hassle, they still refuse to tie their laces half the time- fuckin Alex got them to think they’ll start a trend”

“Fucking Alex- has he worked off all the detentions he got for selling pot brownies at that big game against that North’s team?”

Collins laughed “nope, but he also didn’t snitch out Peter for making them, so I guess he’s not a total dickhead- maybe just a dodgy entrepreneur” they shared a doubtful look before breaking back into giggles, their court drama forgotten before their shirts even had time to dry.

In business and legal, Collins became even more frustrated than he had been trying to one on one Philippe, he swore his brain was melting out of his ears- he might’ve chanced asking George for a small edible before class if he wasn’t scared shitless of their school spontaneously drug testing them… in the middle of a class… without prompt. He was a bit paranoid, okay?

When their teacher made the rounds around the classroom, eyes flickering over laptop screens and notebooks to catch out any slackers- of which there were many, she paused in front of George’s desk- sans Peter, who was stuck in the middle of English extension in the next block. Any genius would’ve picked up immediately on the illicit smell permeating the back corner of the class where George sat- but instead, she raised a brow and used all 5 years of her teacher’s education course at uni to send George to the office for a uniform slip. For yes, his black socks.

“I’m pretty sure he could roll one up and smoke it and this teacher wouldn’t care so long as he had white socks, black shoes and his tie on” Collins mumbled, tapping his pen to the backs of his knuckles, Philippe visibly squirming beside him, he hated that noise and Collins took great joy in pretending not to notice his discomfort.

“I’m pretty sure he has” Philippe exhaled, rubbing his hands up over his face, pausing over his ears and glaring at the blond’s knuckles.

George came back roughly ten minutes later from his minute and a half walk to and from the office, and the teacher hardly acknowledged him as he trudged back up to his corner, collapsing into his chair before quite happily dropping his head on his desk and falling asleep.

It took Collins and Philippe’s combined efforts to wake him for short break, the teacher glaring at them from the front of the room as they shook the brunet awake, and even then, they had to bag his notebook and pencil case for him before dragging him out.

“You ever think of going clean George? Even Peter slows down during assessment weeks” Collins asked, as they reach their bench by the tuckshop, year 7’s screaming as they chased each other and complained about their boyfriends pairing up with another girl in science class, the year 10’s counting the days till they could legally drop out blasting music from a speaker hidden in a bag at another bench. The joys of public school.

George hadn’t responded, but he’d livened up a bit- probably thanks to the aforementioned blasting music and screaming 12-year olds. Collins rolled his eyes, rifling into his pockets to see if he’d left any coins in there from another day that had survived the wash and his ‘finders keepers’ mother who always dove into pockets before she washed them for that fact alone.

Spoiler alert; there were no coins, and he was left to the lunch he’d packed this morning that had sat in his lunchbox all day in the sweltering heat, the cold brick fighting valiantly to keep the sandwich and miscellaneous snacks and fruit cool but suffering all the same. It also didn’t help that Peter came over at that exact moment, brandishing two Calippo’s and claiming a quick kiss that likely tasted foully of poorly baked pot brownies and cheap weed as payment before handing one to George.

“That could be us but you playing” Philippe commented, elbowing Collins who was moodily eyeing off the iceblock and considering how much of a chance he’d stand in a fight with the two lovebirds.

“I’d make out with Alex’s hairless cat before I’d date you, and not even his nice hairless cat- I’d make out with his hairless cat that rolls in it’s litter tray and growls at you when you give it treats” Collins grumbles, trying to find solace in his water bottle- which he’d frozen the previous night and chewed on the bore of his bottle for a few seconds. It still wasn’t a goddamn Calippo but it was the closest he’d get.

“Collins, if we beat the team on Thursday, I promise I’ll buy you a Calippo” Philippe suggested, holding a hand out, and you bet your arse Collins shook it.

They were going to smash that team, new fucking captain or not.


	2. the game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lockwood is also an actor from dunkirk, and i have no idea how basketball works so bear with me!!

“Tie your fucking shoelaces!”

Collins reckons he’s never seen Philippe so aggravated, the whole basketball team is cooped up in the dressing room, they’re in enemy lines, and somewhere on the other side of the hall their opposing team is preparing to sweep the floor with them. Philippe might not have been so pissed if Vernel and Guthrie hadn’t chosen this very moment to play coy about why it’s important to tie your shoelaces.

“Coach is expecting a lot from us and so am I, we need to show them that not even a new captain can save them from losing- I need teamwork, and I need you two to tie your laces!” Collins busies himself with pulling on his jersey, the small room quickly filling with bright school colours. He may not be sure about his teammates, but Collins was going to win, he couldn’t not win, not with his Calippo on the line, and seemingly not with Philippe’s mental state on the line too.

He was feeling good, it wasn’t as hot as it had been the rest of the week, and this school was somehow fancy enough to have fans the size of a plane propeller hanging from the roof, so that scratched Collins’ ‘it’s too hot’ excuse off the list, the only thing that he could excuse himself for now is if every single bone in his legs break, and for some reason he doubted the chances of that happening.

Speaking of breaking bones, Philippe was still barking at all the members of the team, they only had a few minutes to go now before game time, and the dark-haired man was only growing angrier- Collins was surprised he didn’t rip his jersey in half as he pulled it over his head, his arms growing veined as he clenched and unclenched his fists. He was captain material alright. Collins turns his head as Philippe turns around to check on him, and he almost catches himself holding his breath until he hears the captain turn his attention to Lockwood, a professional slacker but a machine in offense- at least when he can bring himself to care, that is.

When Dawson finally enters the room, a poorly masked grimace on his face, Philippe falls deathly silent, as if threatening bodily harm upon his own team if they lose was a bad thing. Dawson eyes him off a moment, before forcing a smile “full stands out there boys, and Alex- not sure how or why he’s here, should’ve checked the luggage compartment of the bus before we left, I suppose. Anyway, full stands, a lot of people who are going to want you lot to fail- but you’re not- I’ve seen you play, and I’ve seen you send a lot of other teams home with their tails between their legs. You boys need to work together, as I’m sure your captain would’ve stated- maybe not in as kinder words as I did, but a similar message all the same,” Dawson was good at speeches, unless it was a speech where he convinces Peter to join the basketball team, in which case he’s useless- but team speeches? Team speeches were goddamn lifechanging, and if they won, Collins might consider offering his Calippo to Dawson before ultimately thinking ‘no, I’ve earned this fruity bastard.’

When they march out onto that court, they’re surrounded by the loud din of an opposing team’s stands, along with what sounded like Alex selling skittles by screaming at the top of his lungs. Collins rolls his shoulders, it was always the tensest while you waited to see the other team, while you waited to see who was going to eat you alive if you didn’t give 150% effort.

The world always seemed to slow down when the other team walked out, the commentator and the shouting from the stands turned into a quiet buzz in Collins’ ears and all he could focus on was the brightness of the other teams’ jerseys and the line of players making their way out and onto the court. Collins saw Philippe square his shoulders next to him- not that his shoulders needed any help being square and broad as hell, but Collins found he didn’t mind if it instilled even the slightest ounce of fear into literally anyone on the opposite side of the court.

When Philippe made that first step towards the centre of the court, Collins felt his heart give a harsh thump against his sternum. Though, it was strange… from this distance the captain looked short… almost shorter than Philippe- who was already a bit too small for basketball- were they serious?

Collins couldn’t help it, he barely masked his chuckle with the swipe of his hand over his mouth, it was too late, and somehow that captain heard him, and Collins could feel the burn of his gaze as the captains shook hands. Collins should know better than to doubt someone because of physical appearance, look at Philippe for example- but this guy was something else, surely this was a joke?

Well, joke or not, Collins was about to find out, because now the ball was in play and he had to defend the ever-loving shit out of their goal now that Tiny managed to grab the ball. Collins was right on him, he spread himself out, it wasn’t too hard to box the guy in, he was 3’5 after all, but Collins wasn’t going to lie- he had a terrifying look in his eye.

Then suddenly Tiny was charging forwards, a hand flying out to fend Collins off and suddenly the blond was stumbling backwards, for a height challenged guy, Tiny was aggressive. Somewhere nearby Philippe was shouting out directions, and before Collins could even make down to their hoop the buzzer was sounding and Tiny had managed to sink a goal.

_Alright, beginners luck I guess._

Philippe was in his element- high energy, aggressive plays, there was a reason he was point guard, his hands moved that ball like it was a ticking time bomb, and his small size somehow came in handy- at least up until a gargantuan defender boxed him in, Collins turned his head sidewards, he was jostling with a player from the other team for best position if Philippe passed, basketball may be considered a ‘non-contact sport’ but he swore the ‘non-contact sports’ are the sports with the highest concentration of violent psychopaths.

There was a pause where Philippe didn’t move, just dribbled to himself and twitched from side to side as he tried to find an opening, then the ball was out of his hands, bouncing once under the arm of the defender before Collins made a mad dash for it, and it was times like this he was grateful for his janky legs.

He’d just scooped the ball up, barely getting half a dribble in before there was a hard mass smashing into his back, the commentator found it hilarious the way Collins stumbled, his control of the ball flickering as the player stayed on him.

_“There’s Farrier getting all hot and heavy on number 5- looking a bit too close for comfort there, bet he’s feeling those extra sit ups now”_

He was too far from the hoop to trust his own shooting ability, but Vernel was just over the other side, and with Philippe hassling the shit out of the player trying to defend Vern, the latter was the best bet on court. Yet every time Collins pivoted or hesitated, ‘Farrier’ was there, now they were face to face- but that’s when Collins made a key discovery.

He was kind of a lot taller than ‘Farrier.’

And he was kind of really good at over the head passes.

Next thing the ball was sailing through the air and Vernel broke off at a sprint, stepping around his defender who’d managed to shake off Philippe a moment, and jumping up at the basket, catching the ball and slamming it into the hoop. The ruckus from the stands was deafening, and Collins whooped in relief as he ran over to the 4, the team gathering in a huge hug, behind them he could hear the coach going off at the other team, and soon the captain joined in with the public scolding.

As Collins freed himself from the tangle of arms, he noticed Vernel’s shoes- his laces were tucked into his shoes- not tied, but out of the way, and he respected that hustle.

They were still hyped from the score when the ball reset and suddenly Farrier ducked around Lockwood and made a charge, throwing the ball past Guthrie’s head with enough velocity to knock someone’s head off their shoulders and suddenly the teams power forward had shot a goal and Philippe’s team was left gaping on the court.

Ooookaaaay then.

It didn’t get any better, and if Collins was honest, he swore he blacked out for most of the game, and if he’s completely honest? he enjoyed being subbed off- wishes he could be like that skinny bloke on the other team that honest to god never came on once. The only thing that saved them from being beaten was Philippe’s tireless aggression, which was noted more than once by the commentator, the short man nipping at the heels of the other team like a relentless cattle dog. By the end it was a miracle 3-pointer by Vernel, surprising coordination from Lockwood and the other boys, and a fend from Guthrie against Farrier that meant they somehow got that bread and tied, Collins was for once glad he’d been left on the sideline, as it seemed that was when they did the best, and who was Collins to get in the way of progress?

As they all made their way on court, hands outstretched, Collins put on his best brave face- as were the other team when a player was unfortunate enough to shake Philippe’s hand and barely get away without broken fingers. When Ti- Farrier and Philippe shook hands for the second time, Collins swore both teams held their breath a moment, even though Philippe may be holding it together now (barely), Collins knew he wouldn’t hear the end of it until the rematch.

When Collins realised that Farrier was the only person whose hand he hadn’t shaken, he honestly considered running away- to think Collins had laughed at the guy like an idiot, oh shit Collins was going to be skinned alive.

When their hands touched- or rather, when the brunet tried to squeeze the bones of his hand out under his fingernails, the shorter man smiled a smile of complete sadistic joy, “you still laughing?” he asked in a voice that could only be described as unnerving, even with that pompous accent.

Collins swallowed thickly, he had to grow a backbone now- he had to be a dickhead for Philippe.

“Will be when we wipe the floor with you next week- so tell the cleaner to take the day off” was it a good burn? He couldn’t tell, Farrier as his jersey stated (Collins had become very acquainted with his back, considering all he did was chase after him the whole bleeding game, that and the commentator liked to point out every single time Collins was finessed by the bloke) was unreadable, the squint to his eyes, the tightness at the corners of his mouth where he smiled, the smoothness of his brow, this guy had a killer poker face. When he patted Collins on the shoulder, the blond had to bite down on the inside of his cheek, dude had a killer grip and killer strength in general, apparently. Collins had been very much a fool to underestimate him.

The bus ride back to their school was quiet, even coach Dawson’s encouragement wasn’t enough to rouse the boys- they were exhausted, they hadn’t had to fight for just a tie like that for a long time- and what’s worse? Collins couldn’t get his Calippo! The thought made him feel sick, sick and even more desperate to win next week, he wouldn’t rest until he won that iceblock. Or until he remembered his money and bought one himself- whichever came first.

Philippe looked… oddly thoughtful- had been since they’d left the other school, which was a little bizarre if Collins was honest, he’d thought the dark-haired man would’ve been sharpening knives and making callout posts for his Instagram page by now- not staring out the window… enjoying the fucking scenery?

Once they were cleared to head home, Collins started the short walk from school, he couldn’t bear to be stuck on a bus again, and that goddamn smile was stuck in his head, appearing on the backs of his eyelids every time he blinked, it was driving him crazy. How come he’d never seen Farrier before? Sure, maybe he only just became captain, but wouldn’t he have played before then? They’d played that school before, and they’d beaten that school before- by a lot, like it was ridiculously easy- it was like playing against a team of logs- and not even good logs- like decomposing logs with the structural integrity of a wet tissue. How could one guy turn all that upside down?

Maybe if Farrier hadn’t shared the ball around then it might’ve been a different story- but his teammates- teammates Collins had finessed many times before got the ball as much as Farrier had, and they’d done a bloody good job. The blond huffed, kicking a stone along the concrete of the path, nudging it back onto the cement when it flung off into the grass, booting it again and creating scuff marks on his shoes he’ll know his mum will tsk at.

When he got home, he didn’t do any homework, instead he got inquisitive, got curious. He swears it was a complete accident when he finds Farriers Instagram account- an account full of photos that make him look like a decent human being and that pisses Collins off the most, pisses him off until his skin tingles and his teeth grit.

What he did after he closed and locked the door with his music turned up is his own damn business.


	3. Collins becomes a whore for hire?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys come up with a genius plan to beat the other team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah... idk what this is, rematch is next chapter!!

They’d been banished to the outside court yet again, except this time, Guthrie, Lockwood and Vernel had the decency to join them, team bonding and all that shit. They were restricted to half court though, thanks to Peter and Alex having set up camp to lay in the sun soaking in the heat from the concrete on the other half of the court.

“What’s his deal?” Lockwood asks, nodding to Alex as he jumps above Philippe’s arms to pass the ball to Guthrie, Philippe growling and cursing his stunted height.

Collins shrugs, only half arsing an intercept from Guthrie to Vernel, “I think he makes out with George and Peter when they all get high or drunk” it was a strange concept, but that level of casual might be enjoyable- not that Collins would know, he’d had one boyfriend for a week in year 10, they’d held hands and wanked each other off like, once and that was the extent of the whole relationship. Romantic, right?

Lockwood hums, watching Vernel sink a shot “exotic.”

Philippe pulls at his shirt, which was starting to stick in places, “Peter, where’s George?”

“Catching up on visual art homework” he shouted back, covering his eyes with Alex’s hand, it looked nice, to be that warm, but as a Scot Collins made it a rule not to indulge the heat if he could. He burnt in record time, looking like a jar of salsa was not a ‘LookTM.’

When Philippe gets the ball, he crossover’s it a few times before shoving past Lockwood, a move that leaves the latter yelping and demanding to know what his problem was as the dark-haired boy runs up and throws the ball into the hoop.

“I can’t believe that one guy changed that team so much- I swear if we lose this game, I’m actually going to quit the team- this is ridiculous” he huffed, throwing it at Collins who might’ve lost a few teeth if he hadn’t caught it, he was a little shocked by Philippe, to think the shorter man had been keeping it together rather well up until this point.

“It’s okay, we can just do some drills at training this week, we were just caught off-guard” Collins suggests, dribbling and weaving between Vernel and Guthrie, who were only half paying attention- but he’s still glad all the same when he scores.

“You need to stop hiding on the sideline from that captain then” Philippe points out, and Collins glares, tossing the ball at him, which gets intercepted by Lockwood before it can reach the shorter boy.

“I’m no’ hidin’, you guys were just doing so good without me there, didn’t want to mess it up” he wasn’t lying, technically- sure, he did want to keep his distance from the guy, seeing as he seemed to want to humiliate Collins… or kill him, he still wasn’t sure which was more likely- but he wasn’t _scared _or anything… he wasn’t!

“Speaking of without being there- Phil what the bloody hell were you doing at the court in the park on your own on Saturday? I thought we was supposed to do that shit together- extra training time and all that?” Lockwood sounded like he was conducting an interrogation and had stopped his race to the hoop to dribble it in the one spot, meeting Philippe’s hard gaze. Collins was confused as to how Lockwood knew where Philippe was, but then he remembered- Snapchat, the place where you can listen to Philippe vague and then check the map to know where the bloody hell he is and why he’s being an angry twat, it could be very useful sometimes.

“I wanted to work on my own skills”

“What skills?”

“P-passing”

“Passing? You’re point guard, you’re the best at it”

“Fuck off Lockwood, you’re not my keeper”

Collins, Guthrie and Vernel could only stare, the tension gathering between the other two boys was palpable, and the blond was almost expecting one of them to throw a punch when Lockwood broke out into a laugh, looking away from Philippe’s eyes, “alright then- keep your secrets” he mutters, and then he’s leaving, yanking his bag out from under Alex’s head and leaving the latter yelping and rubbing where his skull hit the concrete.

The tension remains in the air for a few moments longer before Vernel makes a move to retrieve the ball where Lockwood had dropped it, Philippe hadn’t moved, had only moved a hand up to drag through his hair, pinching the bridge of his nose a moment before shaking himself out of the funk Lockwood had put him in.

He went to apologise, but Guthrie beat him to it “Nobody else cares where you were, we need all the training we can get- can we get back to the game?” Collins could tell he wanted to call them all dramatic, but Guthrie was the one that almost cried once because the team had pinned him down and tied his laces (and wrapped them in duct tape to prevent untying but still, _he _was the immature one).

“Yeah you’re not the problem- it’s Collins over here- their point guard couldn’t stay away from him- our poor sweet Scotty boy was all flustered over having to work for it for once” Vernel chimed in, catching a pass from Guthrie and dribbling backwards until he could take a shot for a 3-pointer- which he scored, Collins wasn’t sure how he was so good at it, but he wasn’t about to question the validity of a good thing.

“Hey! Maybe Collins could sleep with him to get information- take them down from the inside while their captain takes down Collins’ insides”

“What the fuck Alex, that’s repulsing” Collins gagged, running up and booting the brunet’s foot, which did nothing but irritate him a little, irritate Alex and cause everyone else including goddamn Peter to agree with him. Collins felt his face go bright red, he fucking hated this family.

“Alright, glad we could come to an agreement, Collins is going to sleep with the captain- nice taking one for the team, prayers that it’s a small one but I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it” Alex concluded, having not even opened his eyes, Collins hated seeing him so comfortable while he was being humiliated.

The boys were no help, cackling along to Alex’s words, Philippe already shoving his hand into his pocket, likely reaching for the card he kept stored in his phone case, but Collins wasn’t going to tolerate this sort of disrespect, so he of course decided to do the mature thing and be the second one to storm off during the one break alone. He could hear Philippe and the boys beckoning him back, but it was too late- as Taylor Swift once said- ‘band aids don’t fix bullet holes.’

He knew he couldn’t go back, not now, so he did the next best thing- he hunted down George.

He found said person in one of the art blocks, just as Peter had told him, and if Collins is honest, he was a little surprised to see George sober and actually doing work. The blond knew he liked art, but he didn’t know he liked art enough to drop the weed for.

“My man, look at that!” Collins spluttered, eyes glued to the canvas, he hadn’t even known so many shades of blue existed, or yellow. It was gorgeous, a boat on the water, the sun shining brightly on the horizon as it rose, painting everything in soft yellows and pinks, there was a figure standing at the bow, bright red sweater cutting shadows onto the boat where he stood in the way of the warm rays, Collins knew it was Peter without even asking and for a moment he felt jealous that he lacked such talent, his sketches were much more on the bland side compared to this masterpiece.

George had startled, almost getting more paint on his already stained hands, but his look of shock quickly turned into shy glee at being validated for his hard work. “Thanks, been a pain in the dick to get started but my teacher doesn’t completely hate it, so I guess it was worth it- didn’t even have to get high as a kite to come up with it.”

It’s a bit of a bizarre method but Collins can respect the hustle.

“Why are you even here? Thought you’d be busy playing with balls- I know Alex and Peter are down there, I thought Peter loved me, but he’d rather see you lot fuck around- and to think he bought me a love Calippo” George shook his head, but from where Collins sat on the stool across from the brunet, he could see the fond smile tugging at his lips. Damn where can he get some of that?

“I’m here because they were trying to whore me out to the captain of the other team to ‘gather information,’ bunch of twats” George chuckled, but was too focused of painting the shimmers on the water to entertain the concept too much, Collins was glad for it, if he got pissy now he’d have nowhere else to go.

Fortunately, George focuses back on his painting and Collins is left to watch the brushes dance across the canvas, it’s surprisingly calming, watching the picture come more and more together, and by the time the bell rings he’s sad to leave for ancient history.

Though, the sadness turns into anger when he’s blocked from entering the classroom by Philippe holding out a ten-dollar bill.

“I’m not being a fucking whore!”


	4. the rematch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the rematch against farriers team goes...well?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this goes 50 different directions but try and keep up

Collins reckons he’s never been this exhausted.

He’s also never seen the boys this quiet, this beaten down- he’d be concerned if he didn’t know why they were like this, but he did know why they were like this. Dawson and Philippe had been hammering them at training every afternoon to lead up to this rematch, it almost feels like they’ve been set up for failure, drained and too tired to put in the effort Philippe and coach are asking from them.

The upside was that this rematch was being hosted at their school, so at least they’d be on their turf, they knew every inch of that court, knew where the flooring was worn and slippery, knew where it dipped and where the stands were most distracting- they knew everything. The other team? Well the other team have just stepped into a public-school lion’s den.

They’ve been provided an hour to warm up- an hour for Collins to try and get some feeling back in his legs… and face… and muscles. Collins honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he passed out on that court. He can barely find the strength to yank on his jersey and force out a few lunges before he’s ready to call it a day.

That is until he notices Philippe sneaking off in a very un-Philippe fashion.

The first thought that sprung to mind was drugs- it wouldn’t be the first time a high school sportsperson has resorted to it and Collins wasn’t above saying Philippe was a little too excited after all the training they had been doing. Considering the rest of the team looked like death warmed up and that the only alive looking player was now sneaking off towards the bathrooms, Collins surely had the right to be a little suspicious.

He follows at a distance, careful not to let himself be seen or heard, but Philippe doesn’t seem very interested in being vigilant, he’s much more… eager? Is he eager? Collins was very much confused but didn’t let up his mission. After pausing outside the bathrooms for a few moments, he quietly pulls open the door and carefully makes his way around the winding corridor until he enters the bathroom itself. Not surprisingly, nothing’s going on in the open, and he’s left to carefully make his way down the rows of stalls, his heart thumping hard in his chest and his brain trying to think up the worst possible things that he could find.

When he does come across the stall containing Philippe, he swears his eyes almost bulge out of his head, and in his rush to back up as quickly as possible, he almost falls over at least 5 times. It’s only when he backs into the sinks that he stops. He can’t fucking believe this- surely it wasn’t- no.

Driven by disbelief, the blond scurries back down the lines of stalls, determined to find out whether he’d been imagining things.

Spoiler alert: he hadn’t, his anti-other team captain really was jammed into a toilet stall swapping spit with someone from Farrier’s team- romantic, right? Collins feels sick, what if Philippe had talked? What if the other team now knew every single move they were going to make? For the second time in that bathroom, Collins turned tail and fled, but this time he made it out, tearing around the corners in the corridor until he could burst through the door, where he almost crashed into, of all fucking people, Mr 3’5 basketball whizz Farrier.

“What’s going on? I watched you sneak away from warm ups; the bloody hell are you up to?” Collins knew Farrier would like to think Collins was up to some dastardly plan just to try and beat him, but it couldn’t be further from the truth, and he really didn’t want to be caught red handed when Philippe decided to stop fraternizing with the enemy.

“Why were you watching me?” he asked, his voice firm and almost bordering on aggressive, he needed to get the fuck away from here, and being interrogated by one of snow white’s seven dwarves was not going to help him do that.

Farrier seemed shocked, whether it was because of Collins’ tone or because of the question, he couldn’t seem to find an answer, his mouth opening and closing with those frustratingly thick lips a moment before his cheeks turned pink, he ran a hand up the back of his head where his brunet hair was shorn short, and managed a “well- you see, uh” before he shook his head violently “have a good game” he muttered before turning on his heel.

The shock of what he’d just managed only settled in once the outline of the captain disappeared around the corner, and Collins swore under his breath before sparing a glance at the door and forcing his feet to uproot from the ground, the blond feeling now sick and scared- Farrier was going to eat him alive for that.

He swears he’s never felt so unprepared in his life walking onto that court- seeing Philippe makes his stomach churn and seeing Farrier makes his heart thud painfully. When he looks at Guthrie and Vernel, he’s relieved to see they’re looking as terrible as he feels. Lockwood? Well Lockwood looks like he’s ready to bite someone’s head off- to be honest Collins wouldn’t be surprised if they found out Lockwood _was_ on something.

_Or if he was banging an enemy player on the side._ The second the thought enters his mind Collins feels sick, and to make matters worse he can’t shake it- can’t shake the vision of Philippe all pressed up to some bloke in the wrong coloured jersey, sharing lips and secrets for all Collins knows. How could Philippe do that? After threatening to quit the team if they lose how could he just… do that? And for how long? How long had Philippe had to slip up and reveal some important plays, or a manoeuvre they’d trained so hard to perfect? All of that and more could’ve been shared and all of that and more could be used against them. Collins prayed to all things holy Philippe kept his mouth shut.

When the balls put into play, every step Collins makes to try and get a hold of it is like running through mud with thongs on, the din from the stands makes his head spin and when he finally gets a hold of it after Vernel chest passes it to him, Collins can’t begin to think of what to do with it, in the end he bounces it under the defender and hopes someone can get to it. It only half works, and Lockwood ends up shoving the other teams 3 away from himself and earning the team a foul. Philippe jogs past the former, and says something that makes Lockwood glare, but Collins can tell that he agrees.

The foul is played by the other team and they almost end up scoring when Philippe utilises an admittedly amazing intercept to jump up and catch the ball. Collins has barely seconds to realise what’s happening when the ball is sailing towards his face, and if the powerful throw doesn’t put him off balance, Farrier crashing into him in a failed intercept does that and more, and before Collins can truly feel the force of the player, his back is slamming hard into the ground, the blond letting out a loud yelp almost as high a pitch as the whistle.

He lays there a moment- head throbbing and everything in his field of vison blurring together, he can feel the ridged rubber of the ball against his finger tips and pressing into his chest, and when he rolls onto his side he curls around the shape, groaning through gritted teeth and barely registering the rush of feet towards him. He can’t even be bothered to try and help himself up when hands wrap around his arms and under his armpits, just lays there gripping the ball and staring around like he’s forgotten where he is.

When Collins is sent off, he almost cries in relief.

Dawson can tell somethings up- something other than the possible concussion, and when he returns with Collins’ water bottle and an icepack, he sits down beside him on the bench, watching the younger man take long thirsty gulps with a furrowed brow and concerned eyes. This guy is so Peter’s brother it’s almost off-putting.

Collins can hear him asking questions, trying to establish why Collins looks dead on his feet other than the aforementioned blunt force trauma, but the blond isn’t paying much attention- instead his eyes are glued to across the court, stuck on the skinny dark-haired lad who looks much too happy for someone stuck permanently on the sideline. It must be him- it has to be. For someone on the other team he’s spending way too much time staring at Collins’ point guard, he tells himself it can’t be too bad that Philippe is hooking up with the least active player on the whole team- tells himself it would be much more worrying if he was fooling around with Farrier, the captain. Collins grimaces at the thought and takes another mouthful of water, he’d suddenly gotten a rather bad taste in his mouth.

The boys manage to turn Farrier’s foul into a score, and now they’re two ahead and Dawson forgets Collins in order to lose his mind over the point. A spectacle that only increases when halftime is called, and the boys start jumping all over each other and throwing rude hand gestures to their opponents. Honestly Collins would love to be the supportive teammate, but the mix of concussion and world-shaking developments mean he’s running towards the bathroom rather than the team huddle.

He barely makes it to a toilet before he’s throwing his guts up- his stomach had little more than Gatorade and the salad he’d had at second break to try and liven himself up at the game- but throwing it up sucks all the same- he had paid for it after all.

When he’s sure he’s done gagging he decides the best course of action is probably sick bay, at least for a few minutes to see if he feels any better. It’s a short walk and a quiet one (other than the din from the court) and he’s left with only the throbbing of his head and his thoughts. He knows he can trust Philippe, but he feels betrayed by what he’d seen all the same, but again, maybe he’s just feeling dramatic because of the exhaustion- Collins sighs, he can question things later, now he’s got to try and not pass out.

The sick bay is empty, and Collins misses the primary school days where he’d be welcomed by a soft-spoken women and lead to a cot surrounded by cuddly toys- he also misses out on listening in when she answers the phone and trying to guess what the drama was, but mostly just being waited on hand and foot. He lays himself down and the mattress is uncomfortable, but he can’t much bring himself to care, and in the quiet he can feel himself drifting in and out of consciousness.

He’s woken by the sound of the door, and he almost jumps out of his skin when his eyes fall upon Farrier, skin slick with sweat and jersey struggling to cling to his shoulders, Collins says nothing, and Farrier shuffles his feet a moment- had he forgotten why he was here?

“I’m sorry bout- y’know, knocking you the fuck over- swear I didn’t mean it” Collins doesn’t respond, just sits himself up a little and raises a brow. Farrier grits his teeth and the blond can see the muscle pull tight under his skin “yeah, just wanted to say I’m sorry before your teammates beat the shit out of me next half” he forces a laugh that Collins doesn’t reciprocate. He’s looking like he’s about to say something else when he presses his mouth shut and turns around, leaving the room as quickly as he came.

When the door swings shut Collins slides back down onto the mattress, throwing an arm over his eyes, why couldn’t Farrier just leave him the hell alone? Why was Collins such an arsehole? Why was he so torn over this?

Collins was able to ponder the questions for a record two minutes before he absolutely crashed. He swore he woke up at some point to find Alex rummaging through the medical kit, but he’d like to think it was a dream and not actually Alex trying to hunt down prescription meds. That would be a little worrisome.

He only woke after the game when Dawson found him, gushing about how they’d won before he even asked Collins how he was feeling, which, y’know, felt great. He wasn’t going to lie though- it was a relief to know they’d won in the end. That Philippe more likely than not _hadn’t _spilled all their secrets, and Collins tried to join the crazy mess of hugging and screaming, but the thing with head trauma? Those two things aren’t very good, so out of common courtesy of not vomiting on everyone Collins hovered at the sidelines.

He’s almost out the school gates when he hears the thud of shoes and gasping breaths coming up behind him, and he almost whips out his best karate moves before he notices it’s Philippe. Collins could feel that sickening feeling reappearing in his gut- but not even that could overpower his feeling of love and adoration when that charming bastard held out a Calippo to him.

“We won!”

Collins is pretty sure Philippe almost didn’t survive the bone-crushing hug that followed.


	5. house party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the lads go on a wild philippe hunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took a while, got something good planned next chapter tho

“The fuck is Phil?”

It’s the Friday night after the win against Farriers team- which he’d found out through some digging were called the Hurricanes (not as cool as the Saxons but not too bad) and all the boys are crammed into Collins’ room relaxing for what feels like the first time in goddamn years thanks to Dawson and Philippe.

Speaking of Philippe- he’s nowhere to be seen and none of them can contact him, Lockwood is fuming, but only because game night is the only night he could perhaps best Philippe at anything. They try to get on with their video games for a bit but then they all start to feel the gap, and Collins finally suggests they postpone the festivities until tomorrow, but like hell Lockwood was going to let that happen.

So out came his phone and out came the Snap Maps, as helpful as always.

“He’s at a fucking house party”

“Pardon?” Collins couldn’t really see that ever happening, let alone if Philippe was on his lonesome.

“His little avatar bitch is right where someone’s posting about ‘smoking that fat doink’ I’m pretty sure he’s at a goddamn house party” they all share a look with each other, shocked but all thinking the exact same thing.

“Let’s fucken crash it!” and then “LADS LADS LADS LADS LADS!”

They manage to get to the address using Collins’ mum’s car, Guthrie’s driving ability and Vernel’s navigational skills using Lockwood’s phone with Snap Maps. Lockwood himself is sulking in the back of the car still pissed that Philippe had dipped on them like that in order to watch a bunch of sports twats play chicken with both each other and complete organ failure.

When they show up to the address, there’s a few Chads laid out on the front lawn either passed out or hitting that sweet vape, the gang of heroes dodges them easy enough, but once they enter the belly of the beast they feel much much less enthused than they had been doing their war cries in the car five minutes earlier.

Almost immediately Collins sees Guthrie and Vernel shift out the corner of their eyes, “h-hey I think we might go back to yours and check out that new War Thunder update” Guthrie stammers, tapping at Collins’ elbow and ducking away from the bright lights, drunk guys and loud music. Collins, pretty awestruck by the first ever true ‘party’ he’s been to, can’t even answer, he was too busy staring around until he saw the very bastard they’d come here for.

And of bloody course he was sucking face with that twig lookin ass from the Hurricanes. That was, until he must have felt the blond’s gaze on him and sheepishly opened his eyes as he pulls away from the guy.

Collins can’t look away, and neither can Philippe. Caught red mouthed and in the act. The guy stole one more before hopping up off the couch, wandering off to another area of the house for god knows what reason.

Collins takes his chance, he sprints over to the couch, and the second Philippe figures out what he’s doing he’s shaking his head wildly, eyes zipping around to see if his pet twig was on its way back yet. When Collins sat down, Philippe started hissing at him in what could very well be his native tongue, shoving at the blond to try and uproot him from his seat and failing successfully.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Philippe spluttered, still pushing even though Collins was budging- he had spirit, Collins could give him that.

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here? And how could you betray us like that?”

“Betray you? You don’t have all the facts!”

Collins swore his eyes nearly dropped out of his head by how wide they went, it was almost laughable how ridiculous Philippe was being right now, “which are?”

Philippe went stone face for a second, swallowing thickly before he very seriously stated “I love him” then it only takes a glance over his shoulder before he’s back to desperate “please for the love of god fuck off, I can explain myself tomorrow” Collins glares, and he’s never felt more humiliated in his life but he doesn’t argue the point any further, just gets to his feet and stalks away just as twig makes his way back to his seat with two drinks in hand.

When he makes for the front door, he can’t find Lockwood anywhere, a volley of ‘fuck’s making its way through his head as he looks around for the other boy, maybe he went with Vernel and Guthrie- but how would they get home? Did they highjack Collins’ car? The blond feels his blood run cold and makes a charge for the door to see if he was indeed stranded but found himself blocked just as he reached for the handle.

_You’re fucking kidding me_

“Long way from home, aren’t you?” Farrier asks, resting back against the front door and crossing his arms over his chest, Collins clenches his jaw, out of all the goddamn people.

“Came to check on a friend- was just leaving, actually- what, you here to bulldoze me again?” Collins could practically feel his patience dripping from his body with each second he had to stare at that smirk, a stark contrast to the awkwardness he’d seen in the sick bay just a couple days prior.

“Sorry about that, though you should probably know how to plant your feet by now, stilts” Collins was really not here for this, and he huffed before taking a step forward to try and open the door. Farrier didn’t take too kindly.

Suddenly Collins was the one pressed to the door, and he wriggled desperately a moment to break free, swearing under his breath at the eighth dwarf who wasn’t letting his grip up any time soon. “What? You going to make out with me now like in those stupid Wattpad stories?”

Farrier made a face “I wasn’t considering it- you read Wattpad? What are you a twelve-year-old girl?”

“You’re short enough to be a twelve-year-old girl” Collins grumbled from where he was still being held hostage against the door, was this guy for real? Y’know, when he thought about it- would Farrier even be able to initiate a kiss? The guy was pretty short, he’d have to practically jump to get one- not that Collins was thinking about kissing Farrier- not really anyway.

He finally managed to shove Farrier off him, the shorter man looking around them a moment, considerate of something, then he’s taking a step back, “wanna go somewhere quiet? I saw your mates take off without you.” Collins bites his tongue so he doesn’t scream, of course they had, of course! Now Collins was stuck in a stranger’s house surrounded by people he doesn’t know, and he had to cling to Farrier of all people because his only remaining mate is off laying pipe. Great.

He nods numbly and follows Farrier, his head buzzes under the assault of the music, his eyes burning as he watches Farrier’s shoulders pulse with colour from the strobe lights hidden God knows where. Is this what it feels like to be on acid? Probably not but Collins would like to think so.

When they find a room the reality of what’s just happened falls on him- he’s alone in an empty room with a lockable door with someone who seemed unable to keep away from him. His cheeks burn as he looks around before finally making eye contact with the other boy, the brunet doesn’t look away from Collins’ gaze as he walks past him, turning his back to the door and locking it with a hand. Collins knows what’s about to happen and this shit is so above his pay grade but he’s curious and if Philippe can do it why can’t he?

Why can’t he?

Farrier kisses and Collins can only help but notice how short he is, how much his neck is going to hurt if they stay vertical like this, then he’s going even redder because Farrier almost definitely made sure this was a bedroom and there’s basketball posters and trophies and oh my god they’re going to do _things _in some dudes bed. Is it weird he’s kind of even more excited now?

Everything kind of passes in a blur until his back hits the bed and suddenly Farrier seems much larger, his broad shoulders and thick arms encompassing Collin’s head and his hips shoving their way between the blond’s legs and he’s never wanted something so bad he physically aches but he supposes this is the time for firsts; first house part, first time being betrayed by a bloke called Philippe Guillet, first time fraternising with an enemy and when Farrier’s pants join the growing pile of clothes on the floor he realises it’s also going to be the first time he takes a cock and he wants to do this without even the promise of a Calippo dangling in front of his nose and that means something.

It doesn’t take long after that before Collins admits this whole ‘fraternising with the enemy and becoming a captains bitch’ plan wasn’t really the worst thing in the world.


	6. the rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> local power couple rescues top tier mess from himself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good morn am tired

“No palms- fingertips- yes like that, keep your head up, look at me- yes that’s good… harder, c’mon harder, see? Yes Tommy!”

“Fuck off let me figure it out”

He was kind of asking for it when Philippe charged forward, hand shooting out where the other boy was dribbling- his fingers skirting over the rubber and yanking it out and away from Tommy before he had the chance to counter. Tommy let out a curse under his breath and Philippe laughed as he took a few steps up court. “See what happens when I leave you to ‘figure it out’? Handling is important and as point guard I feel obligated to teach you the tricks of the trade.”

Tommy huffs, shoving his fingers through the hair dangling down over his eyes, it was hot on the concrete and the rolling up of his sleeves wasn’t doing much to help keep him cool. “I can control your balls just fine I don’t know what you’re talking about” he mutters and doesn’t miss the hitched exhale of a laugh from the dark-haired boy up court.

“I want you to play field! Sucked seeing you stuck on that bench” he pressed, a whine forming in his tone as he made his way back down towards Tommy, a pout to his lips that made the latter sigh, nodding his head and apologizing for not cooperating. “Alright, you got to try and keep it off me, got to defend it” Philippe instructed, bouncing the ball to him, the smaller boy nodding but the unsure look on his face obvious.

He soon realised what this entailed- for a non-contact sport Philippe was getting almost frustratingly close to him as he tried to escape the other boy. “Ah- now I get it, you just want an excuse to hump me, creep” he hummed, trying to draw a charge but failing, how were his arms so goddamn long?

“Can you blame me?” Philippe asked, sounding slightly gobsmacked that Tommy would even consider the close contact to be a bad thing. Tommy growls through gritted teeth as he shoves at the other man with his shoulder, breaking away and dribbling it down to court, his head filled with the chant of ‘no palms, no palms, no palms’ as he went, he can hear the sound of Philippe chasing him, and he’s almost near enough to the hoop when there’s arms around him, wrapping around under his armpits and swinging him, Tommy squealing like a schoolgirl as Philippe cackled behind his ear.

When his feet finally touched the ground again, he spun around to bop the other boy on the shoulder. “You were so close” Philippe teased, going in for a kiss, which Tommy avoided, his head moving back, an amused grin pulling at the point guard’s lips as Tommy insisted on trying to stay frustrated. It worked up until an index finger stroked up the underside of his chin, mumbling something in a language only Philippe understood before finally claiming a kiss.

It lasted for a few long moments, but then Tommy was pulling away much too abruptly for Philippe’s liking. But by the time he could complain, Tommy had closed the distance and sunk a goal. “See? Don’t need your help- you only serve to distract me” he sighed, flicking his hair that worked roughly not at all.

Philippe let him gloat for a few minutes, before he insisted they play around the world. “Isn’t that for kids?” Tommy teased.

“What? You scared you can’t win without cheating?” Philippe asked, cocking a brow, and receiving nothing but a glare in response.

Tommy does better than what he’d thought he could, though Philippe was still constantly a stage ahead of him. They were down to the final stages when Philippe’s phone started buzzing from inside his bag. Tommy, being the closest, made his way over, digging the device out and frowning, “Long Ness Monster is calling you” he said, a quizzical look on his face.

“It’s Collins” Philippe explained, making his was over, fingers tugging at the waistband of his pants, pulling them up where they’d slipped against his sweat slick skin, Tommy tried not to stare. Tried.

“Why do you lot all go by last names?”

“Coach Dawson was in the air force, he just does it automatically and we all caught on” Philippe clarified, grasping the phone when Tommy handed it to him and tapping in a message to his mate.

Tommy nodded, but his brows furrowed after a moment “what about you?”

Philippe scoffed, looking up at Tommy “you ever heard a Scot, or a Brit try to say ‘Guillet’?”

“Alright fair point.”

Philippe is quiet a moment, eyes glued to his phone, and then he sighs, murmuring a ‘fuck’ under his breath, Tommy tries not to think about the sound too much. “He says he slept with your captain accidentally and he needs to get picked up.”

Tommy frowns, wasn’t the party a day ago? Why was he still there? Did he ‘accidentally’ make Farrier breakfast in the morning and have another couple rounds? Tommy can hear Philippe repeat his thoughts aloud, along with a comment about whoring himself out that the smaller male didn’t completely understand. Then he scoffs, shaking his head as he swings his bag over his shoulder “not taking anymore questions- that shit head- alright, you want to come?” Philippe asks, gesturing to his car, Tommy nods, running over to grab the ball as Philippe gets the car started.

It’s a short ride, and the house isn’t all that difficult to find considering Collins is standing on the side of the road, hand out and thumb up as if he’s some sort of hitchhiker, when they pull up, he spares a look back at the house before getting in.

Philippe takes one look in the rear-view mirror and laughs “did you get any sleep? Are those even your clothes?”

“I said no more questions!” Collins whines, running his hands over his face and groaning. When Tommy hums to himself Collins finally realises there’s someone else in the car. “Hi, Collins- Philippe’s friend” he sounds out of it, but Tommy admires his determination to be polite.

“Hi, names Tommy- Philippe’s boyfriend.”

“What a job to have- what a modern love story- like Taylor Swift once said- she’s cheer captain and I’m on the bleachers” Tommy can see Philippe pinch the bridge of his nose with a hand, and Tommy can’t help but chuckle, how sleep deprived was this guy. “Except, he’s basketball captain and you’re benchwarmer”

“Collins shut up or I’m taking you back.”


	7. the aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk where im going with this

“Oh god, what have I done- I can never look the boys in the face ever again- I’ve betrayed everyone” Collins. hadn’t. stopped. Not since they picked him up, and soon Philippe wouldn’t be able to turn the music up any more than he already had.

Even Tommy was looking frustrated, and when he looked over, his boyfriend was rubbing at his face with his hands, praying for the journey to end soon.

“My mum is going to kill me, I didn’t even tell her where I was going! Fuck, oh god boys am gonna be skinned alive” he whined, smacking his head against Philippe’s seat, the latter gritting his teeth and holding the steering wheel just that bit tighter.

When they finally pull up to Collins’ house, the light in his room is on, which is strange but not as strange as what they see when they finally drag Collins into the house and up to his room.

Guthrie and Vernel are still here, eyes glued to their laptops and looking like a pair of hobos. Philippe is gob smacked, “have you been playing war thunder all this time?”

They startled, jumping but not looking away, Vernel confirming their suspicions with a nod, Philippe sighs, already exhausted with everything and glad he left Tommy to wait in the car.

“How’ve my folks been?” Collins asked, already slowly picking up the rubbish and tossing it into his bin.

“Haven’t hassled us, called you down for brekkie but we said you’d been up all last night so you were still asleep- didn’t seem to mind we was still here” Guthrie explained, shouting a fuck and smacking both hands over his face, Vernel cackling maniacally from his perch on Collins computer chair.

“Weren’t wrong- he was up all night” Philippe hummed, and didn’t miss the glare Collins shot his way as he collapsed on his bed with a poorly hidden wince- this really was too much for Philippe, and he stuck his hands on his hips. “Alright- Vernel, Guthrie, you want a ride home? We need to leave this poor fool to wallow in self-pity” it took a moment for them both to agree, and then five minutes after that till Vernel closed up his laptop, but finally- finally, they were able to escape castle Collins.

“Where was he?” Guthrie asked as they piled into the car, Philippe chuckling to himself, Collins was going to have some explaining to do.

“He never left the party” Philippe informed as he turned down the music, which was still blaringly loud.

He heard a gasp behind him “what? Wait! Why were you there, I swear I saw you!”

The point guard clenched his jaw as he pulled out of the driveway, sharing a sidewards glance with Tommy. “This is my boyfriend tommy, he knows the host so he got invited, and then he invited me” he was waited for questions, for the outrage and confusion for the greatest betrayal, what he was not expecting was the perfectly in synch and disarmingly polite ‘hi Tommy’ that filled the car seconds later. He wasn’t going to question it- he really wasn’t.

When Guthrie and Vernel made it safely home, Philippe let out a long sigh of relief- this had been a really long goddamn day. When he looked to Tommy, he felt his heart grow warm at the soft smile on the other’s face. “Your friends are… interesting” he concluded, though still sounding the slightest hint unsure, and Philippe couldn’t help but laugh- they sure goddamn were. If Tommy thought they were interesting, he should meet Alex- that boy was… something else.

“Do you want me to drive you home? Seeing as I’m the designated chauffeur”

Tommy shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips, “you against slacking on the job?”

Philippe frowned, what?

Then Tommy was moving, twisting around and manoeuvring until he plopped himself on Philippe’s lap, the other boy gasping, scandalised but making no move to resist as he turned the key and pulled it out of the ignition, letting it drop by his feet- there were much more important things to get his hands on right now.

“You’ve been waiting to do that” he accused, slipping his fingers up through dark hair, a little gross from sweating out on those courts all morning, but he didn’t really give a shit, not when he could use the hold to pull him down for a kiss.

“All goddamn morning” Tommy grumbled, plastering his mouth to his partner’s and humming at the sensation of Philippe’s hands on him. Not to be lame but this really was good enough to make up for the shit he’d had to deal with for the past hour or so.

“Eugh, we seriously need some lynx body-spray right now” Philippe chuckled, because as he’d mentioned- basketball on a hot court? Not the most hygienic activity.

“You didn’t seem to care about any of that last night- we smelt like mango vape and cheap vodka- and we didn’t even partake in that shit” Tommy wasn’t about to whip their cocks out when they were pulled over in such a nice neighbourhood, but he wanted a good snog and Philippe was acting like a princess.

“Okay- okay, I’ll shut up”

“Good.”

* * *

“thfuck is gonon?” Alex felt like shit, and it took him about two seconds to figure out he wasn’t wearing his own clothes- no, he definitely did not own pyjama pants with goddamn boats on them- and this shirt was way too tight to be his own. He knew he drank a lot last night- but not enough to make this poor of a fashion choice.

“Peter! He’s awake”

“Porge Jills?” Alex asked, rolling onto his back and wincing at the ceiling light that shone almost directly into his eyes, he felt like he’d been sucking on cotton for hours and his mouth tasted like ass-whether it was for good or bad reasons was yet to be seen.

“Morning sleeping beauty, you’ve been out for… twelve hours- not counting how long you’d been asleep by the time we picked you up” that had to be the other one- the blond one that never let him have the devil’s lettuce- bastard- dirty bastard man.

“Wha happened?”

“You called me last night talking about finding god and we picked you up from some house party- knew it must’ve been serious- you’ve been a devout Universe Person since fifth grade, we had to save you” Peter explained, sitting down by where the brunet was laid out on what had to be Peter’s bed- he smacked lightly at Alex’s cheek and the latter jumped up straight, whining at the ‘abuse.’

“Thank you for service kind citizen” Alex grumbled, still rubbing at his cheek as Peter stood up and wandered back out of the room.

“He was worried ‘bout you- you were seriously hammered- eyes were doing crazy stuff- I offered to find a spot to bury you but we didn’t have any shovels.”

“I wish you had buried me- I’d finally be able to reunite with brother nature as I decay slowly in the dirt” Alex sighs, holding a hand against where his heart beat under his ribs, George was beginning to look more and more disturbed, until Alex cleared his throat “brother nature is Hozier- he’d be most proud of me” he clarified, though that did not wipe the look from Georges face.

When Peter comes back, he brings water and a bowl of something red- Alex has a little bit of trouble telling what it is, it’s too goddamn bright in here.

It turns out to be watermelon- not raw meat as Alex had speculated, Peter made that mistake very clear as he helped the other boy up and carefully passed over the goods. “You feeling any better?” he asked as Alex made short work of the drink and most of the watermelon- his body felt so robbed, and now that it’s been given such nourishment, it has to indulge in all of it before it disappears.

When he’s done, he politely asks for a bigger shirt. “Sorry about the weed smell on mine, got up to some crazy shit last night” he sighed, finally finding one that actually fit (mostly because it was actually his, lord knows how it ended up at the very back of Peter’s closet.

The two others shared a look, one that read ‘_weed smell? Bitch where?’_ because all it took was half a sniff and Peter had him rumbled. “This smells like peppermint vape- how the hell are you mixing those two up?”

“No, it’s weed! I paid ten bucks for this fancy arse joint.”

The look on Peter and Georges face was almost as bad as knowing he’d never see that ten bucks again.


	8. arsecrabs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> collins having some arsecrabs in his moisturiser hole? it's more unlikely than you think

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, the bitch is back, i've gotten some comments recently that really sparked my passion for this pipedream of a fic again and dagnabbit i wanna keep fucking around with this story!! this is just a little appeteaser to get me back into the swing of things, i promise it'll be back to regularly scheduled shenanigans whenever i write the next chapter.

It had been an hour or so since the boys left Collins to wallow in his own self-pity. It had also been an hour or so since Collins had sat down on his bed. He’d kind of been just staring at the mess Guthrie and Vernel had created hoping it would disappear, disappear to wherever the hell his virginity had gone.

His poor poor virginity, it didn’t deserve to be ripped from him like that.

Not that the sex was bad! No, no, the sex was, on a level from 1 to ‘rated the hottest on Pornhub’, it was pretty close to the latter. The brutal part was the fact that they’d had no lube and had to use some random guys jerkoff moisturizer and Collins didn’t know much about sex but he knew his chamber of secrets deserved better than jerkoff moisturiser.

He was afraid to move, even though he’d managed to walk from the house and down to the footpath, and then was able to sit in the car and make his way to this point, but thinking about it has finessed him into a placebo effect and he can feel the throb and holy fucking hell he’d had sex. Now he was wondering if it wasn’t placebo effect, did a condom get stuck up there? Was that possible? Surely that hadn’t happened? Why did it hurt so bad? Did that jerkoff moisturiser give him crabs? In his arse? Arsecrabs? Holy fucking shit the spiral hit harder than Farriers raging erection.

He was pulling his phone from his pants that he’d been wearing since yesterday and tapping the screen so hard he was surprised that it didn’t crack. When the dial tone gave way to confused mumbling, Collins felt all the queries in his chest rise up in his throat and burst free in a complete shitstorm of the English language.

Which managed to come to fruition in the form of “do I have jerkoff arsecrabs? Is there a condom up my moisturiser hole?”

Philippe was silent for a second, and in true Wattpad style, when Philippe finally spoke, Collins released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I have been learning english for years and I still do not know what the fuck you just said.”

Collins can only open and close his mouth like a goldfish, trying to unscramble his scrambled thoughts, “I hurt” he manages, and Philippe is silent for a moment before the line is filled with cackles, Collins clenching his jaw and huffing indignantly and frowning so hard his brow aches. When the boy on the other end of the line finally manages to gather himself, he sighs “just take a warm bath and avoid webMD, welcome to the club Cauliflower.” If he hadn’t been spiralling harder than a waterslide he would’ve questioned the nickname, but it just so happened he was and questionable vegetable nicknames would have to be saved for a later date.

Collins digs into his repressed yoga skills to deep breath after he hangs up, steeling himself for getting up, the placebo effect has turned the ache into a throb and as he rockets to his feet and sprints to the bathroom down the hall, his entire bottom half is on fire and he almost forgets to strip off before diving in the painfully slow-filling tub, managing to wack his foot on the tub so hard it brings tears to his eyes- it was like taking a lame razor scooter right to the ankle.

He’s never felt so panicked like this- maybe it’s the pre virginal sex jitters that he missed out on last night finally hitting, or maybe he truly is dying to repent for his team betraying sins. Only god knows, and if Collins hadn’t met god last night, he had a feeling he’d bump into him later when arsecrabs claims its first of many victims.

But, Philippe wasn’t wrong, and by the time the bath fills with the bubbles from the nearest bottle he could find (some fruity scented bodywash) he’s almost managed to completely calm down, his nerves seeping from his slick skin into the plume of steam clinging to the ceiling of the bathroom. No thanks were to be given to the yoga deep breathing, however- which made him almost pass out when mixed with said thick steam. He fiddled with the taps until the water shut off before collapsing back against the tub. Collins’ legs were bent at the knees to fit in and staring at them took him back to last night when those same legs had the captain of the Hurricane's between them. The thought had him swallowing down a lump in his throat, he felt his cheeks heat even though the thought was for him and him alone. He gripped his elbows and stared at the ceiling, focusing on the heat seeping into his bones and the heat alone, heat completely and yet not-so different to the heat he’d felt under the weight of another boy- another man.

“Fuck.”

A weight that was nowhere near as heavy as the feeling of realisation that he’d fraternised with the enemy once, and that he’d gladly do it again.

“_Fuck.”_


	9. rumour has it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nothing secret stays that way for long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took a hot minute but we here- im pretty sure this is the crackiest chapter yet but if anyone fucks with my alex headcanons i will cut you.

“You survived! My dear cauliflower you survived your arsecrabs!”

“Shut up”

Philippe laughed and Collins shoved at his shoulder, the shorter boy smashing into the school gate as they jostled against each other to get in, Philippe falling back a moment, before raising his hands to fiddle at his tie, fabric slipping through the loop until he could pull it off his head entirely, before jogging up to Collins, barely slowing as he breezed past, tie flicking out and snapping against Collins’ bare calves, the blond jumping and yelping out a ‘fuck you.’

“That positions taken!” the dark-haired boy teased, facing Collins, feet carefully scuffing against the pavement as he walked backwards. It was then that the other boy gave a burst of speed, bag slipping off his shoulders one arm at a time until he could slam it down against Philippe’s side, the latter having only realized what was happening seconds before it was too late. He stumbled off the path, barely missing some year 7’s, who decided to try and start a fight in response to the disruption. Not that Philippe noticed, he was too busy charging across the path to smack his tie against every inch of pale Scottish skin that he could.

Their bodies connected with a thud, and it was only after Philippe slipped his tie over Collins’ head and started strangling him that a teacher decided to step in and separate the two rabid year 11’s currently engaging in a throwdown in front of herds of juniors. They separated quickly, both of them huffing hotly and shifting uncomfortably as they were threatened with everything from detention to suspension. The only reason they got away was because some other juniors decided to get into a verbal punch-up over a tiktok girlfriend, and apparently the fuck word is a much more serious offense than choking with a tie.

Philippe and Collins scurried away, exchanging a shove as they made their escape, shoving past flocked year sevens and cackling excitedly on their way to the courts. Their eyes fell upon the court and Philippe hummed, wondering out loud why Lockwood’s annoying blond fuckboy quiff was missing, Collins chuckling, “probably talking shit about you and tryna fuck his way into the cool kids group again,” the two shared a laugh, Philippe shaking his head as they shuffled down the incline onto the courts.

When they stepped foot onto the heated concrete, Philippe noticed instantly how Vernel and Guthrie were standing still, bouncing the ball between them, faces turned to where George and Peter sat, Peter rifling through his bag and George sitting next to him tapping at something on his phone. What did this mean? It meant some tea was being spilt.

As the two boys came within earshot, Philippe picked up the tail end of Peter mentioning that the captain of the Hurricanes laid pipe at the party- that he’d left the host’s bedroom in tatters. He hears Guthrie grumble that there had been nothing but blokes at the party, and Peter just stares, deadpan until Guthrie gasps, everything falling suddenly into place.

When Philippe and Collins drop their bags by George, Guthrie can’t take his eyes off Collins. Collins- who showed up at the house party and didn’t leave until the day after and had been acting odd ever since. Collins shifted uncomfortably, the two boys holding eachother’s stare until Guthrie chuckled, sly grin working its way onto his face. “Probably Phil, eh? He’s already railing one of them, what’s one more? Sly bastard.”

There’s a moment where Collins looks like he’s experiencing every emotion known to man, almost perfectly comparable to the Taron Egerton bussy incident. But then he turns to Philippe and shoves at his shoulder “yeah, one hurricane not enough for ya? You got no time for American cock but you sure as shit got oodles of it for proper English boys” Philippe bites the inside of his cheek as he stumbles back from the shove, hissing through his nose and considering letting the cat out of the bag for a moment. He’s not really sure why Collins is acting like this is a big deal, sure, it’s the captain and the boys would beg for him to work as an undercover agent but that would be about it, but whatever, Philippe is way above outing someone’s secret relationship because they called him easy.

“Yeah- me and the captain got very acquainted, jealous?”

“Suck my English dick- I’d rather make out with Alex than let Farrier within fifty metres of me” Collins scoffed, but Philippe could tell he was nervous, could see it in the twitch of his fingers, could see it in how he kept looking at Peter, he wanted to track down the source of the ‘rumour’ like a bloodhound on a fresh trail.

“Where’d you hear the story, Peter?” Philippe wasn’t about to deal with Collins whining about wishing he knew who knew, so he may as well put the blond out of his misery now.

Peter sort of jumped back to attention, withdrawing the arm that had been around George’s shoulder in order to assist the hand that was trying to cover his eyes from the sun, “Uhm, Alex told us, he’s like the TMZ of this lame suburb- guy hears everything.”

“I’m pretty sure some people in year 9 tried to get him a page on famous birthdays” Vernel butted in, chuckling to himself before bouncing the ball to Philippe, who bounced it to himself a couple times before passing to Guthrie.

“I remember a couple months ago we were with him at the cinema and these girls swarmed us because they thought Alex was Harry Styles” George started, looking up from his phone finally, going silent a moment before laughing “he told them he was sleeping with Louis Tomlinson and they were considering releasing their sex tape soon- the tabloids went crazy and Harry Styles- the real one didn’t even bother denying anything until his management held a knife to his throat and made him deny everything. Sounded like Camilla Cabello talking about Shawn Mendes, absolutely tragic.”

Everyone spared a chuckle, Peter nodding his head in agreement, mumbling that it was true. Philippe remembers hearing about that, remembers when Alex said Harry Styles followed him on Twitter and a girl sitting near them went into meltdown. He’s pretty sure Alex and Harry had multiple chats in dm’s too. Life was fucking strange for Alex Ichabod Elmslie.

The bell went and the boys grabbed their stuff, when Collins moved to walk with Peter to their homeroom, Philippe grabbed his arm, “I’m guessing we’re going to see Alex?”

Collins nodded “I need to have a chat with him, you’re backup in case he pulls out a shuriken.” Then he was moving, and Philippe was left spluttering.

“A-a shuriken? He’s done that before? Wha- what the”

“See ya later Phil!”


	10. Alex 'Jack Merridew' Ichabod Elmslie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collins gets to the bottom of the rumour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so um, things get a bit lord of the flies in this one, i just kind of went sicko mode- hope we can move past this, but i had a lot of fun and that's all that matters.

Collins barely paid attention in class- he may have somehow dodged Guthrie and the boys, but who knew how many people Alex spoke to in a day- who knows if he knows exactly who fucked the captain, who knows if he knows that Collins knows that he knows who knows who fucked the captain. Who knows? Hopefully just he, Alex and the captain himself, but you never really could be sure.

When they finally were released for lunch, Collins realized that when Alex wasn’t with Peter or George, he really had no idea where the guy hung out. When he voiced this realization to Philippe, the dark-haired boy scoffed “you don’t find a guy like Alex- he finds you.”

Collins sighed, looking around, Philippe was right- they’d never find him, they wouldn’t find him and then everyone will know- everyone. Sure, Philippe got away with the Tommy thing- but Tommy was benchwarmer! Noah fence, but benchwarmer is a huge downgrade from ‘captain with every bit of knowledge they could ever know or need about the team.’ At the end of the day? He just couldn’t risk it. They needed to find Alex, and they wouldn- “Hey, Phil I found Alex!” never mind.

The local celebrity had skirted the corner of Collins’ vision, the blond only just picking up on him quickly enough to see him scoot into the toilets. Collins’ feet immediately started after him, Philippe making a noise of surprise before following. “What’s he doing?” the other boy asked, and Collins shrugged, he found it was better to never ask.

When they entered the bathrooms, they were met with quite the scene- Alex and two other boys in the year above them were all crowded around a flesh coloured shape sat in the middle of the bathrooms. “Alex, what the fuck is that?” Philippe asked, a pained look on his face, it’s almost like he can sense this probably isn’t ideal.

Alex didn’t even bother turning to look at them “oh, it’s the princess and the frog! So glad you’re here to bear witness to the best thing that’ll ever happen to the maths staffroom,” Alex started, who was trying to move out of their view without leaving his squatted position. “This, is a pigs head, gentlemen, and I’m going to show my math teacher just what happens when she sends me into the hallway” Alex grumbles, and Collins and Philippe share an incredulous look, shaking their heads to themselves and continuing to watch as Alex pulls out an honest-to-god branch from his bag… wait, surely not?

“Suck my dick and call me Jack Merridew we’re going lord of the flies, boys” Alex declared, shoving the head on the end of the stick- it had obviously been dried out and drained before Alex came into possession of it, but it was still a little horrific, though perhaps not the most horrific thing Alex has ever done. “Princess, will you and your frog prince be joining the uprising?” Alex asked, shoving the head on a stick to one of his accomplices before holding out a hand to Collins, back bending in a bow.

Collins wrinkled his nose, but he had a feeling he wasn’t going to get anywhere if he abandoned Alex now, “fine, but I’m not touching your hand” Alex straightened up and sighed, “you’re no fun, can’t imagine spending the night with you- now come on, stage 2 is starting” Collins spluttered at the comment, face turning bright red and his lungs becoming quickly devoid of all air- he knew, and he knew that Collins knew that he knew. Fuck.

Collins and Philippe followed the three boys out of the bathroom, the trio working together to hide the pig head, they’d been rendezvousing in the bathrooms closest to the math block, so they’d had not far to go. All the two innocents could do was watch as one of Alex’s mates ran into the hallway of the math block, sprinting all the way to the end before pulling something out of his bag. Collins watched as he fiddled with it for a second, before it lit up and he was diving out the doors behind him and shouting, ‘for Hogwarts!’ then almost a second later? Chaos.

It was fireworks, fucking **fireworks**.

“Never not invest in indoor fireworks, boys” Alex murmured as the end of the hallway filled with light and sound- light and sound that sent all the teachers from the math staffroom running up the hall to see what was going on- that was when Alex took off, pig head and stick clutched to his chest, his twiggy legs moving at an incredible speed until he disappeared into the staffroom.

“Fucking hell he’s crazy” Collins breathed, and one of the other boys chuckled.

“He’s an artist” yeah, whatever crony #2, Alex was probably on the list of national threats to security by this point. He was an avenger’s level threat if Collins had ever seen one.

By the time Alex emerges from the staffroom, teachers are pulling in the fire hose from outside the building and dousing the work, which had already calmed down by a landslide by the time they had the idea to y’know, _put it out._ But whatever, it sounded like a them problem.

“Long live Jack Merridew” Alex announced, smacking Collins on the shoulder as he ran from the scene of the crime- his remaining crony splitting in the opposite direction, but Philippe and Collins had no choice but to chase after Alex.

“Alex… I need to talk to you!” Collins called as he chased the brunet, and despite Alex agreeing immediately, he still continued to run for another twenty seconds before he stopped.

The three musketeers claimed a bench and Collins only waited a second or two to catch his breath before getting down to business. “How did you know? Who told you?” he panted, Philippe contributing nothing to the exchange of information apart from drinking as loud as humanely possible from his drink bottle.

“Well- you see young skywalker, I heard from the host someone fucked up his room, and then I distinctly remember that after taking a lovely body shot off your lovely coach – though, I do prefer his brother- I saw you making your delightful little way upstairs- you weren’t very sly about the whole thing.”

“Why did you tell Peter?”

“I didn’t, it was a momentary lapse of secrecy after he cured a fucker of a hangover- which also happened around the same time I saw the message complaint from the host that I let slip someone rooted in his room- no names, just Peter’s pretty little mouth doing what it does best- gossiping- you’re safe on my end, Collins- but you might wanna check in with your man.”

Alex was… weirdly helpful, even if his involvement with both Dawson brothers made Philippe and Collins shift in their seats. Sure, he was almost sweet around Peter and George, but coach? Nope, not having that.

“I told you, you were being a drama queen, cauliflower” Philippe hummed, and Collins glared. Alex, on the other hand, found the nickname hilarious.

“That’s a smart one- you free this afternoon?”

“I have a boyfriend, bottom-feeder”

“I might’ve been a bottom-feeder if you’d have gone out with me, but you’ve heartlessly denied me”

Both Collins and Philippe physically cringed, making sounds of disgust. Collins’ only fault was being evermore curious. “Aren’t you, Peter and George a thing?”

“I only make out with them when we’re high or drunk- they’re much too lovebird-y otherwise, I’m like Christian Grey, I don’t make love I fu-”

“Okay! Thank you Alex, have a lovely afternoon, I sincerely hope you don’t get suspended, say hi to Harry for me” Philippe stood up and began dragging Collins away in a matter of seconds after the reference came out of Alex’s mouth, and whilst Collins had been glad to talk to Alex and establish the status of how fucked his little secret was, his gratefulness had turned to dust in his mouth very, very quickly.

They’d been nowhere near the math staffroom when they’d heard the scream.


	11. news

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys hear some interesting news from coach dawson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a heads up, if you're not into some mild alex/peter action, dont read past the asterisk.  
this was going to be a bit of a filler chapter but then i couldn't resist writing my guilty pleasure ship in there.  
also, if you havent caught on, george,peter and alex are kind of a throuple- but alex is more of a mutual side hoe if that makes sense? idk who cares this fic is just crack at this point

Collins could tell something was on coach’s mind before he even stepped onto the court to start training. Whether it was something serious or because Alex was sitting on the side of the court watching him was yet to be seen- but something about the ponderous look on coach’s face made the blond’s stomach roil.

The boys had barely had enough time to put their court shoes on before coach was snapping out of his trance like state and smacking his hands together, “boys, I have news that you may be interested in” Collins heard Alex say something indecent from the sideline, but coach, who’d been dealing with teenage boys for years, barely flinched before continuing “I was contacted by the coach of the hurricanes- and after their admittedly embarrassing defeat, they’re quite interested in a revenge game- and being the forgiving person I am, I said yes- we’re on next week, I would apologise for the short notice, but if we beat them once, what’s a second time?” when Collins looked sideways to Philippe, he expected the captain to be seething, a week of training was never enough in Phil’s opinion, and it was an opinion he’d disputed viciously.

But he wasn’t mad- had hell frozen over? Was he actually… smiling? Smiling at one week of competition training? What the bloody fuck?

Collins could see similar looks of shock on the other boys, who’d obviously thought the same as Collins and therefore had also been proven brutally wrong. What was wrong with everyone today? He was glad his fear of being found out was gone for the most part, because now he was feeling anxious about seeing Farrier again, about winning, and to top it all off, he was scared shitless of that gleeful, admittedly intimidating smirk on Philippe’s face.

Everything returned to normal once they stepped onto court though, Guthrie and Vernel tucking their untied shoelaces into their shoes, Philippe doing his overkill arm stretches, and Lockwood rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to impress admirers that weren’t there- unless you count Alex, who started whistling aggressively at the bared upper arms, which Lockwood soaked up- the dickhead.

The only good thing about Lockwood was also the worst thing about him- his temper could run down the entire opposing team, but then it could also start some of the worst dick-measuring you’d ever seen between he and Philippe. Collins reckons that the reason they press each other’s buttons so bad was because of the captaincy fiasco- which saw Philippe steal the captain’s position- the position Lockwood had been rooting for since they’d joined the team. Philippe, fresh from another country and already captain- almost an entire year on and Lockwood is still fuming. Captaincy was a waste of time in Collins’ opinion- at the end of the day you still answered to coach, and that’s all that really mattered.

Anyway, speaking of Lockwood’s temper- he and Philippe were already passing to each other hard enough to knock the wind out of them and they were only fifteen minutes in. After last year’s 12’s graduated, their team had suffered a hit, and had gone from two teams to one. Which meant for training they were always reduced to an uneven half court team. Unfortunately for Collins, he was always stuck with Lockwood on the smaller ‘team.’ It meant he had to scramble for possession and try not to get chewed out by Lockwood for an hour and a half.

By the time they hit twenty Collins was about ready to officially resign from training days.

*

Alex wasn’t quite sure why he didn’t attend more of these. Aside from the fact that Peter and George never came, and that was a bummer.

But now, watching the boys, Alex was wondering if it was a bummer enough to miss out on watching a bunch of sweaty torso’s knock into each other, clamouring for some balls.

It wasn’t, it really wasn’t.

But the sweaty torso’s soon grew quite repetitive- Collins would ask for the ball, Lockwood would ignore him, Phil would threaten to strangle him, and Vernel and Guthrie would get bored and start mock fighting each other in the corner of the court. Every round, the same shit, it’s almost like sleeping with the captain of the footy team- fuck, get ignored, fuck, get ignored, over and over again, it was all quite tedious.

So, Alex grabbed his stuff, and after throwing the sauciest wink he could manage to that coach- who _pretended_ not to see him- almost as if he was embarrassed about the body shot incident or something. Ridiculous.

Alex knew where Peter and George were, they’d tried to tempt him out of going to training in order to hang out in the art room- aka tits and arse galore because apparently that’s the only thing people make art of anymore. But, if it was all the same to everyone, Alex would stick to the real thing.

“I told you it would be a waste of your time.”

“Lovely to see you too, Peter” he’d barely closed the door behind him before Peter started up, coming to block Alex from moving any further into the room, arms crossed over his chest and a shit-eating smirk on his face. “You’re not actually pissed that I ‘abandoned’ you, are you?”

Peter rolled his eyes and scoffed, arms dropping by his sides as he moved away, back to Alex, “no, but George is like, really focusing this break- I can only refresh Instagram so many times before there’s nothing new.”

Alex pauses, mouth agape slightly, an eyebrow flicking upwards “so you missed me- that’s adorable, don’t worry, you’re not the only one- ‘How to Be a Heartbreaker’ by Marina and the Diamonds is my theme song.” Peter chuckles as he turns to face Alex- the brunet can hear the mad scraping of a pencil on the other side of the divider between the two art rooms- it’s dead silent otherwise- perfection.

“How did I forget that you talk so much shit? I didn’t miss you, George made me sit at another table because I was distracting him and I got bored because _you _would rather watch my brother yell at a bunch of sweaty boys” he’s got this tone, Peter does, this shit-stirring, playful tone, but a playfulness that suggests he’s ready to get the Peter Dawson brand of mean any moment if Alex pushes his luck.

“Your brother is a lovely man- but I was there to support our dear princess and the frog, y’know, show some school spirit” Alex starts, and Peter raises both his brows, disbelieving- he saw right through Alex. “Look, if you ever got sweaty I would support you” he tries, but Peter’s expression doesn’t change, and Alex can only sigh, taking a few steps closer, “I think you’ve made up a narrative inside your head and you’re sticking to it- all I can say is you’re the superior Dawson, doesn’t matter if you believe me, detective.”

Then, a voice from the room next door, George “If you guys are going to do something can you hurry up and do it? Preferably in the storeroom- I’m trying to do work for once.”

Both boys stare at the divider a moment, Peter calling out an apology before turning to look up at Alex. “Don’t know what he’s on about- we’re not going to do anything? Not sober, y’know?”

Alex nods, spluttering his agreement “yeah- yeah of course- silly assumption to make.” They stare at each other, and then they’re both slowly shuffling to a door at the back of the classroom.

When they shove each other into the room, the door closes with a heavy thud, Alex finding himself stumbling back into a wall of mannequins, some missing heads and arms and entire torso’s- he would’ve made a joke about drowning in hoes if Peter’s godforsaken mouth hadn’t shut him up. Usually when the three of them did this kind of making out thing, Alex was so high he never remembered much of anything, apart from maybe terror when he bites Peter’s lips sometimes because the munchies were starting to hit (though that was his own fault- the only time Peter ever helped Alex get hold of weed was when he wanted a smooch from the coolest kid on the block). Yeah, that was always fresh in his mind afterwards.

“You going to bite me this time?” Alex swears Peter can read minds, and he huffs a ‘shut up, bunny,’ before harshly yanking on his tie- Peter smacking him on the shoulder in retaliation.

There’s an arm digging uncomfortably into his back, and he’s perfect height so that every time Peter pushes against him, he feels like he’s being grind on by a mannequin from behind- not that he’s not into that, he might very well be- but it’s just a little distracting, is all.

“I’m being humped by a mannequin” Alex groans, and Peter stops mouthing at him long enough to start laughing at his misfortune.

“No offense, but I’m pretty sure you’ve been humped by far worse.”

“You’re just jealous- can we move somewhere in this room where there aren’t mannequins?” he may have asked politely, but the way he shoves Peter was anything but, the blond gasping but moving obediently until he’s crowded against the door by the taller boy.

“Ooh aren’t you scary- pushing around someone smaller than you?” Peter teases, but he’s already wrapping his hand around the back of Alex’s neck.

“You’re such an annoying little shit, why did I agree to this?”

Peter makes a bemused face, their mouth’s no more than a couple centimetres apart “because this is better than looking at sweaty torsos.”

Yeah, Alex can’t really argue with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're wondering, alex calls peter 'bunny' because he called peter 'peter rabbit' once upon a time and now it's kind of a nickname of sorts idk.


	12. the rematches rematch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the rematch to the rematch which might lead to another rematch. hnnnggng basketball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: doesn't write for a week  
me after returning: WhAt iss PloT?

When Tommy hits the polished maple of the court for the fourth time since the game started, Collins can feel his insides quiver at the look on Philippe’s face. Lockwood has been wiping the floor with Tommy from the moment he touched the ball, the second he’s got the ball he takes off, and every time Tommy finds himself not moving quick enough to dodge the shoulder that always finds itself smack bang in the middle of the smaller boy’s chest. It sends him to the floor every time, and every time, it’s technicalities that save him from a foul- whether Tommy was counted for blocking or Lockwood was just harnessing the incredible power of dumb luck, he was never told off for it.

The only relief for the Hurricanes when Lockwood had the ball is that he pussies out the second Farrier takes a step towards him, and almost always hands the ball off to someone else before he had to go offensive on a player that could actually defend themselves.

When they go off for half time they’re tied, and it’s only thanks to a three pointer on Vernel’s behalf that they’re tied. Collins tries to pay attention to what Dawson is saying, but he can see Farrier flapping the front of his jersey out of the corner of his eye, and his peripheral is hellbent on making sure Collins notices the muscle moving about in his bicep with each movement. He grits his teeth and turns his back to the distraction. He’s not the only one not paying attention- he can tell Philippe hasn’t halted his glaring at Lockwood since they left the court. Collins wouldn’t be surprised if Lockwood makes it out of this game without a black eye.

Five minutes later and Collins is charging across the court to pull Philippe off of Lockwood, Tommy had hit the ground hard and after he hadn’t gotten up after a few seconds, Phil had pounced, his shoulder hitting the blond and hitting him hard. Lockwood, never being one to back down from a fight, had bounced back and there they’d been, brawling in the middle of an important game.

The game was put on hold while Dawson and Collins dragged the two boys away from each other kicking and screaming. At the sight of the fight, Farrier had been quick to help the possibly concussed Tommy away from the scuffle. _He’s caring too, of course he fucking is, I can’t stand him._

Philippe chewed Dawson out about Lockwood’s offensive play style, but given that Phil had started the fight and Lockwood hadn’t earnt himself a foul all night- it was Philippe that found himself sent off for the rest of the game, the only silver lining was that after Farrier had a chat to their coach, Tommy also sent off, and the two boys had both disappeared under the guises of ‘getting water’ or something along those lines.

Without Philippe the Saxons crumbled, Lockwood shouted and Dawson shouted but nothing could save them- they didn’t have the strategic set-ups Philippe gave them and they were left defending their arse’s off, the replacement point guard stood no chance against Farrier, and watching the older boy move with such ease and run circles around their team awakened a masochistic part inside of Collins, thus further distracting him from trying to dodge earning the worst defeat in highschool basketball history.

They were crushed, and by the time the end whistle sounded, Collins was ready to collapse- he may be centre, but he’d never run so much in his entire highschool basketball career. As the Hurricanes celebrate, all Collins can do is trudge to the bathrooms to wash his face of the layer of sweat stuck to it.

He’s rubbing at his face with water-slick hands when he hears the door swing open with a squeak. He hasn’t got enough time to stand up and face the intrusion before there’s hands on his hips and he’s almost jumping out of his skin. “They teach you how to focus at Saxon basketball camp?” he’s pawing at his face to try and dry his skin enough to open his eyes when he realizes it’s goddamn Farrier, and the blond blindly wiggles from his grip. When he finally opens his eyes, he’s met with the most irritating smirk on God’s wide earth. It’s almost as annoying as the smirk Farrier gave him when they were in bed together and Farrier told Collins he knew the blond wanted him and Collins couldn’t deny it. Bastard.

“They teach you not to fraternize with the enemy and become a distraction at Hurricane Basketball camp?”

“Why would they, if you’re distracted, we win…” Farrier starts, trailing off with a glance to something beside and behind Collins- could be something, could be nothing. The blond watches a lump form under Farrier’s top lip as he drags his tongue across his top teeth. Collins swallows thickly and tries to catch a breath. “You think… perhaps fraternizing with the enemy again might… I dunno- reverse the effects?”

Collins closes his eyes a moment and tries to find his voice, which had disappeared along with the air in his lungs at the proposition. He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t… “It’s worth a try.”

When Farrier crowds him up against the sinks and shoves one hand down his pants and one up under his jersey, Collins can’t bring himself to give a shit about the painful dig of a sink into his back.

*

“I don’t know what the bloody hell got into you Philippe- you’re the captain for god sake, this lot look up to you- I can’t believe you’d act like a goddamn savage- I don’t know what’s going on with you two but this is crossing the goddamn line, you hear me?” Lockwood and Philippe looked like two scolded toddlers, arms crossed, and shoulders curled in on themselves like if they made themselves smaller they could dodge the wrath of their pissed off coach, he’d never been yelled at like this, he wondered if peeing himself would make the matter better or worse.

Philippe was the main target of his fury, being captain and all, but Dawson made sure not to let Lockwood off easy, something that made Philippe struggle to keep a straight face as Dawson demanded to know why Lockwood thought it was appropriate to go WWE on your teammate- rather than move away or evade the fight as best he could. They were both given serious detentions- Philippe a couple more than Lockwood for starting the fight in the first place, he supposed it wasn’t as bad as it could be- usually fights like that resulted in suspension.

As they’re dismissed, Philippe chances a look at Tommy, who was sat on the bench with an icepack against his head. The two had rendezvoused in the locker room after they’d both been sent off (for different reasons, of course), Philippe had felt like his own mother, fussing over his boyfriend like he had been. Tommy had tried to convince Phil he was okay, but the latter could see in his eyes that the Hurricanes player wasn’t entirely there. The last time Philippe had seen someone go down that hard was when Collins got shitmixed by Farrier in their previous game, it was funny up until it was someone you really cared about. Not that he didn’t care about Collins, but y’know, Collins wasn’t his boyfriend and all that. It was a technicality.

Philippe is torn from watching Tommy when he hears a door slam from the direction of the bathrooms- it’s Collins, moodily tying up the drawstring to his shorts and frowning hard enough Philippe worries he’s going to pull a muscle in his face. What now?

“Arsehole” Collins huffs as he drops onto the bench, sitting close enough that Philippe can feel the heat radiating off of him- it’s a little gross if he’s honest. He’s watching every emotion in the human psyche wash over the blond’s features when someone plops themselves on Philippe’s other side, he can tell by the way the person is humming Megalovania that it’s Alex, but Phil is much too busy trying to figure out what has Collins’ knickers in a knot to pay much attention to whatever Alex is here for.

Finally, Collins groans, back bending as he lets his face drop onto his knees, arms dangling by his sides, fingers touching the polished floor. He mumbles something into the material of his shorts, and when Philippe *politely* requested to know what he was saying, Collins snapped out a “I threatened to let sheep destroy his schools sacred grass! Fuck. He made fun of you two for scrappin’ and that’s what I said in retaliation- he laughed me out of the bathrooms” now Philippe knew why Collins was bright red, that was… possibly the stupidest thing Philippe has ever heard leave someone’s mouth.

All three boys were silent, even Alex- which is… very unnerving, and when Philippe turns his head to check on Alex, he feels his stomach drop at the scheming expression on the brunet’s face. “I can get you sheep, give me 24 hours” he declares, and then he’s up and racing, sprinting out of the hall and towards the front of the school. All Collins and Philippe can do is stare at his disappearing silhouette.

“Tell me what Farrier finds so attractive about you again?”


	13. attack on sacred grass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex was a man that got things done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont know where this is going i might just end it with a huge orgy i have no clue

Collins and Philippe had been walking side by side on their way to pick up some food from the local 711 when a white van had started slowly driving along beside them. It was the following day after the game, a Friday, hence the snack run (Philippe was still on the tender side about the game and couldn’t pass up the opportunity to drown his sorrows in cheap slushies and whatever sugary crap they could get their little dirty paws on). Neither of them had noticed the van for a solid few seconds before it turned and let its wheels slide up the sloped concrete until the boys turn to look at it, both coming to a confused stop. What predator actually used a white van nowadays?

The windows are tinted, and after a couple seconds of nothing, the boys shrugged and kept walking, and when they did, the van started following again, this time, the tinted window was down. “What’s a couple pretty ladies like you doing in a place like this?” they both recognized the voice instantly, and again stopped to face Alex, of all people, driving a wrongun van on a Friday arvo.

“What the hell are you doing?” Collins asked, looking over the vehicle, Alex had his arm along where the window had disappeared, elbow dangling and hand tapping to the beat of what Collins swore was the kind of music the military used to torture their prisoners. “Also, why did you stop like that?”

“Told you I’d get you sheep within 24 hours, didn’t I?” he asked, voice nonchalant like he wasn’t saying something completely bonkers, before he bit his lip a moment, looking a little embarrassed “and I stopped because I couldn’t figure out how to put the window down- the van came with the sheep.”

“You were serious?” Philippe asked, adjusting the straps of his bag, eyeing the back of the van off carefully.

“You bet your left testicle I was serious, get in” Alex insisted, and what else were they going to do? Leave him? Course not, if they betrayed Alex like this they’d probably end up in a ditch before next Tuesday.

Collins got in first, and Philippe was going to follow when he made a noise of disagreement, crossing his arms over his chest, “there’s not enough room for me.”

“Sit on princess’s lap” Alex suggested, ignoring the incredulous looks shot at him by both the boys, “It’s that or get in the back with the girls” ‘the girls’ were the sheep, Collins discovered as he turned around. Packed into the back with little more than what looked like a puppy playpen surrounding them were four wholeass sheep.

Philippe looked nervously to the back, and then to Collins, who had to admit, his lap was better than the sheep-pen, the dark-haired captain sighed a heavy sigh, before clambering into the van and plopping himself into the blond boy’s lap, looking at everything except Alex and Collins.

“No offence Alex, but I didn’t even know you’re allowed your learners- didn’t the mayor personally order you not to get a license to ensure public safety?”

“He’s not my dad, I do what I want” Alex declared as he started the van harshly, smashing his foot down on the acceleration, fighting with the gears a moment before they lurched onto the road, Alex looking more focused than Collins had ever seen, it was unnerving if he was honest. Philippe still hadn’t looked away from where he was staring straight ahead at the road, it wasn’t as bad as it could be- at least Alex was too distracted to make a joke about the stacked boys.

The boys sat in relative silence, Alex nodding his head along to the torturous music (Gucci gang 10-hour version, according to the radio) until they arrived at the school, which looked genuinely abandoned despite school only ending an hour and a half ago. Alex drove them around to the back, where Collins was guessing the sacred grass was located. Almost the exact second they stopped, Philippe was flying out of the car and off Collins’ lap.

“So, how do you know about the sacred grass? I only know because I heard guys joking about it at that house party” Collins asked as he got out, making his way to the back of the van, he wasn’t entirely sure how they’d get the small flock to wherever this grass was, but surely Alex had the plan figured out? Right?

“Well, was hanging out with this girl- she goes here, poor thing- and she was complaining about having a shit week, I was there for moral support and because she had tequila” Alex explained, fiddling with the keys before joining the other two at the back of the van, pausing to continue explaining before letting the sheep out, “and she was talking about getting detention and having to pull weeds for stepping on ‘the sacred grass’ and I was like ‘oh, cool, explain’ and she did and then I showed her why my lovers call me ‘The Dementor’ in bed. So, when I heard you mentioning it, I knew I could be of help. You’re welcome.”

“More like the tragically misinformed” Philippe mumbled, sounding utterly disgusted, a feeling that Collins could very much relate to.

“Listen, I got sheep after you had a spat with bargain bin Jai Courtney, so you didn’t look like an idiot, okay? Don’t give me bullshit, now come on, help me get these sheep to the grass.” Alex snapped, which made Collins frown, in his opinion, Farrier was much more attractive than Jai Courtney, but he wasn’t about to pick a fight with the guy that could run him over with either a flock of sheep, or a white van.

Any queries about how they were going to transport the sheep were answered when the back of the van was opened, and Alex pulled some honest-to-god sheep halters from a duffle bag. One by one he haltered the four sheep and helped them out of the van, acting surprisingly careful with the woolly creatures. He handed them off to Collins and Philippe as they got out the van, each boy ending up with two sheep to keep under control while Alex closed up the van and made sure he was locked.

“God, look at you two, acting like you’ve never led a sheep before” he scoffed, taking one sheep from each of them as he makes his way through an unlocked gate and officially onto the school grounds. The sheep with him obediently followed, whilst Collins’ and Philippe’s sheep tugged and continuously tried to ram them in the legs.

“You gave us the psycho ones on purpose!” Collins spluttered, again dodging the sheep’s wrath, was Alex a Disney princess or something?

“Hold the halter near the head, god you’re both amateurs” he sighed, and moving Collins’ hand did help a bit, but the sheep still put up a fight right up until they reached the grass- a sizeable patch of grass with a huge tree smack bang in the middle all surrounded by a curb- perfect for some hungry sheep.

They let the sheep make their way onto the patch and let them feed. If he was honest, a part of Collins enjoyed watching the sheep lay waste- figuratively and literally- to the monument, he felt like he hadn’t pussied out of his own threat, like he was someone to take seriously for your own good. Collins could see Alex recording out the corner of his eye- but the blond wasn’t nearly as brave enough to incriminate himself like this, even if the way Alex was cackling made the whole scenario feel 90% less serious.

They let the sheep feed for about half an hour, keeping themselves amused on their phones and keeping a look out- allegedly there were teachers living on sight, which made the chances of being found a little high, high enough to make Collins’ skin crawl more and more the longer they were there.

Alex calls it a day after the 45th minute of sheep vandalism hits, declaring he has matters of the heart to attend to- neither Collins or Philippe care enough to enquire further, and they mutely retrieve the sheep, carefully stepping around the… waste left by the sheep- he personally doesn’t know how four sheep could sully the grass so quickly, but he’s never been good at biology so he picks the friendliest looking sheep and leads it off the grass, walking quickly while his back tingles like a teacher is watching them.

When they reach the van, Alex is quick to load the sheep back up, the smell of livestock almost disgustingly strong as they pile into the van, Philippe silently claiming Collins’ lap as his seat once again. “Mission success boys, if we don’t hear nothing of it, I’ll leak the video, neither of you should get blamed, if you are I’ll hit my connects up and get it fixed. It’s been a good one, gentlemen” he declared, before switching the radio back on and torturing Collins and Philippe with more Gucci Gang until Alex has the decency to drop them off at the 711 they’d been seeking out before they were willingly abducted.

As soon as the van stops, Alex reaches across, opens their door, and all but shoves them out, the two boys yelping as they stumble out the van, narrowly avoiding becoming roadkill as Alex tears away from them, disappearing around the corner with the roar of an engine (if you can call it a ‘roar’).

Collins and Philippe share a disbelieving look before continuing their walk to 711- nothing was going to stop them acquiring the snacks.


	14. caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> all good things must come to an end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im on a text fic kick atm so heres another part.  
and yes, collins philippe and alex have animal themed names because they're adorable friends, i dont take criticism

**FAZZAXD, COWLINS, PHILLYGOAT, ALEXGATOR, TOMMY. [4:30PM]**

**FAZZAXD** has named the group **GRASS TAMPERING [4:30PM]**

_FAZZAXD_  
are you lot going to own up or do  
I have to bring the brass knuckles  
to our next game

_tommy_.  
why am I here?

_FAZZAXD_  
bargaining. And as a witness

_tommy_.  
can do

_ALEXGATOR_  
pardon your honour? What  
the fuck is your username

_FAZZAXD_  
this is your interrogation, not mine

_tommy_.  
our mate timson changed it  
and he can’t figure out how to  
change it back

_ALEXGATOR_  
okay boomer

_FAZZXD_  
im warning you

Where’s the other one?

_Phillygoat_  
that’s not what you call your lover

Smh

Romance is dead

_cowlins_  
stop

how can we help you?

_Phillygoat_  
stop acting like you’re not a twelve year  
old

_FAZZAXD_  
the grass

You destroyed the grass

_ALEXGATOR_  
my lawyer will decide that

_tommy_.  
?

_cowlins_  
he actually has a lawyer, nearly  
sued me for defamation in year 10

I wrote ‘choke’ in his math book

_ALEXGATOR_  
you deserved that near lawsuit

_FAZZAXD_  
choke on what?

Nevermind, you destroyed the grass  
our team is in big trouble for it- threatening  
disbandment for the ‘good of school  
morale’

_ALEXGATOR_  
that’s a bit… shit 😂😂😂

_Phillygoat_  
sounds like a you problem, champ

_tommy_.  
and to think I’d just made it on the court

😞✊

_ALEXGATOR_  
careful phil, he’s baiting you

_cowlins_  
it was alex’s idea

_Phillygoat_  
I wasn’t a willing participant tommy I  
swear

_ALEXGATOR_  
YOU’RE ALL DISLOYAL WHORES

_FAZZAXD_  
as much as I admired the carry through  
of your ridiculous threat, Collins, this was too  
much

_ALEXGATOR_  
IT WAS SHEEP SHIT, HOW HARD IS IT  
TO CLEAN UP?

_cowlins_  
I didn’t mean to actually do it!!

_ALEXGATOR_  
wait till I tell harry about all this

You lot will all be ruined

RUINED I SAY

**ALEXGATOR **has added **harrystyles **to the group

_FAZZAXD_  
who is that?

_ALEXGATOR_  
harry there is a gross injustice being  
carried out here

Shut up jai Courtney

_FAZZAXD_  
who is that?

_harrystyles_  
okay

**harrystyles **has left the group

_cowlins_  
thank god

that was stressful

_tommy_.  
I look like his mate, you know?

I’m prettier though

_Phillygoat_  
can’t disagree there

**ALEXGATOR **has left the group

_FAZZAXD_  
what the fuck?

How do I add people back?

_cowlins_  
don’t bother, he’s probably  
already committing arson by  
now

_Phillygoat_  
cold play on harry’s part

_FAZZAXD_  
I know coldplay! Is he part of that?

whatever, I need you two to own up  
and apologise, otherwise our team is  
gone

_tommy_.  
yes, please, it was funny but  
we’re in deep shit

please Philippe 🥺

_cowlins_  
oh no, tommy entrapment

_Phillygoat_  
I’m the captain, I’ll get it sorted  
and depending on how sad alex is I  
may or may not dob him in

Betrayed by his own  
doppelganger

_FAZZAXD_  
who is henry steals?

_Phillygoat_  
Jesus Christ, just listen to music made  
after the 1900’s

Boomer

_FAZZAXD_  
what is a boomer

_cowlins_  
listen, you’re great, but how  
the fuck are you captain?

_tommy_.  
he threatened us with the brass knuckles  
during votes

_FAZZAXD_  
I didn’t do that

_tommy_.  
yes you did, Anderson pissed his  
pants and NOT ONLY did he withdraw  
his captaincy application, he LEFT THE  
TEAM

_FAZZAXD_  
none of you liked him anyway  
did you all a favour

_Phillygoat_  
what the hell

_cowlins_  
you should’ve done that to  
lockwood haha lmao rofl jk jk

_FAZZAXD_  
translate doesn’t know what  
language you are speaking Collins

_Phillygoat_  
he called you a nonce in  
jalapeno

_cowlins_  
what? No!

don’t knuckle me

_tommy_.  
hot

_Phillygoat_  
hot

_tommy_.  
omg 😍😍

_Phillygoat_  
🥰🥰

_FAZZAXD_  
that’s not a language, I’m leaving  
this is too much for me

Just own up and I won’t hurt anyone  
how’s that?

_Phillygoat_  
okay bane, nice ultimatum

_FAZZAXD_  
how do I leave a group

_Phillygoat_  
you press the power button and put  
your phone in a microwave for a minute

_cowlins_  
don’t do that

then he will kill us

_FAZZAXD_  
bing.com told me anyway  
nice try

**FAZZAXD** has left the group

_tommy_.  
aren’t double dates so fun??

_cowlins_  
im going to leave before you two  
start sexting

_Phillygoat_  
what makes you think we haven’t already  
started?

**Cowlins **has left the group

_Phillygoat_  
ill see you on facetime in 5

_tommy_.  
👉👌

_Phillygoat_  
you filthy cretin you

**Author's Note:**

> if anyone is wondering, vernel and guthrie are actors that were in dunkirk playing some of the highlanders!!


End file.
